Breath
by Sanguinary
Summary: Merton's thoughts as he is beaten. (Updated with chaper 3 and 4)
1. Breath

TITLE: Breath  
AUTHOR: Sanguinary  
DISCLAIMER: Don't own the BWOC characters  
COPYRIGHT: September 15, 2001   
DISTRIBUTION: Ask and ye shall receive.  
RATING: PG 13  
CATEGORY: Darkfic  
FEEDBACK: Most excellent! Send it care of: Sanguinary_515@hotmail.com   
SUMMARY: Merton's thoughts as he is beaten.  
  
~~  
  
Breath in.  
  
Breath out.  
  
Breath in.  
  
Breath out.  
  
He can feel the blood running out of his nose, leaving red trails across his face, yet he   
cannot feel the pain.  
  
Breath in.  
  
Breath out.  
  
Another boot catches him in the stomach, interrupting his thoughts for a moment, bringing him   
back to the real world.  
  
"Nice one Travis."  
  
Breath in.  
  
Breath out.  
  
Breath in.  
  
Breath out.  
  
His thoughts float though his head like clouds. If he doesn't think beyond simple patterns he   
can block out the pain. He can keep the tears at bay. Because tears are signs of failure.   
Signs of how vulnerable he really is. It's better if he doesn't think at all.  
  
Breath in.  
  
Breath out.  
  
And, while his mind has been away, his body has been lying in the corridor of the school. He   
is vaguely aware that he has curled into a ball, his arms protecting his head. He is not sure   
if he is making noise or not. Sometimes he screams. Sometimes he whimpers. But apparently not   
today.  
  
Breath in.  
  
Breath out  
  
Breath in.  
  
They've been waiting for this day. A day where neither Tommy nor Lori was there to protect him,   
to stop them. T 'N' T. Two nut-less turds. To not think. Time not there. Talent not there.   
Torture 'n' Torment. His mind plays with the letter, trying to keep it occupied and away.  
  
Breath out.  
  
The pain is making it though his shields and this time he knows that it won't end in time.   
They've only stopped because of teachers or other students or something to distract them. But   
this time it won't stop.  
  
And Merton knows it.  
  
Breath in.  
  
It's getting harder to stay away, harder to keep conscious. Another headshot and his vision is   
turning red. It's hard to breath, hard to think.  
  
Breath out.  
  
It's growing dark; his vision is fuzzing in and out. He's only aware of the sound of his heart   
beating and his ragged breathing.  
  
Breath in.  
  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
  
Out.  
  
He can't breath. Can't make his body move.  
  
.  
.  
.  
.  
  
Heart grows slower and now, finally, they've stopped.  
  
"Is he ...d?"  
  
"D....kno.."  
"Oh s...."  
  
"............troubl..."  
  
The voices fade away, sliding like water down a sink drain.  
  
And Merton still can't breath.  
  
.  
.  
.  
Thump.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
Thump.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
Thu  
  
~End~  



	2. The Smell Of Death

The room is quiet except for the steady beep of the heart monitor and the hiss of the   
respirator.  
  
Tommy hates this room, hates this hospital. It smells like disease, like Death. Tommy's met   
Death twice and he doesn't want to meet him again. The rooms are painted a pale green that   
reminds him of that fake Easter grass that they put in the baskets.   
  
Two beds are in this room. They wanted Tommy to leave but he wouldn't let them take him away.   
They finally gave up. On of the nurses left an extra blanket and pillow on the spare bed. She   
seemed to understand.  
  
And then there's Merton.  
  
He's paler than he should be. Tommy can trace the veins in Merton's face, watching the blue and   
red river loop over and under each other. His arm has been set in a brace. If he wakes up,   
they'll put a cast on it. The white bandages covering Merton's head, hiding the black hair that   
Merton was so proud of. His eyes are shut, but he's not dreaming. That's what frightens Tommy   
most.   
  
The thought that his friend's mind may be gone.  
  
"Don't get up hope," The doctors say. "He might wake up. If he doesn't within the next few day,   
chances are he never will."   
  
He's not sure what he'll do if that happens.  
  
Travis and Tim went to far this time. They're in a jail cell at the local jail, awaiting   
sentence. If they weren't there, Tommy would have torn them to pieces.   
  
He still wants to.  
  
Merton almost died. Would have died if some student hadn't walked by and seen him lying in a   
puddle of blood. Merton got lucky. Some girl in a class below theirs happened to find him in the   
corridor. She did CPR while another called the hospital. Merton wasn't breathing, his heart   
wasn't beating. Who knows how long he lay their before he was found. Maybe he was found just in   
time to stop any permanent brain damage.   
  
Maybe not.  
  
He's seen more of Merton's family in the past two days then ever before. Turns out that they   
actually care. They're outside crying right now. Becky stayed in the room for a bit but he   
could see that she was uncomfortable. He was Merton's best friend, he should have been there to   
protect him.  
  
But he wasn't. He had a dentist appointment and he let his mother take him out of school for it.   
He didn't know that Lori would be sick that day, didn't know that T'n'T would be on the rampage,   
didn't know that no one would give a second glace to Merton as he was beaten, didn't know that   
this time they would go to far, didn't know...  
  
The list goes on and on. Tommy knows that it's not exactly his fault but he feels like it is.   
Feels that if he had only been there, he would have been able to stop it. Maybe not, but he   
wouldn't have felt so helpless.  
  
The only noise in the room is the sound of the heart monitor and the hiss of the respirator.   
Merton can't even breathe on his own, might never again. The doctor's are talking to Merton's   
family, telling them how Merton might never regain conscious. Asking them if they want to pull   
the plug or wait. Tommy's praying that they'll decide to wait, just give Merton a chance.  
  
It's been hard to keep from wolfing-out in the hospital. The smell of blood and disease and   
death are stronger to his wolf senses and he wants to just howl, let out his anger. But he   
can't, not unless he wants to spend the short rest of his life being poked and prodded by   
scientists.   
  
He doesn't want to sleep but if he doesn't, he'll collapse on the floor. So, climbing into the   
extra cot, he looks once more at Merton.   
  
Merton's face is so peaceful, so beautiful, so pale. He looks dead.  
  
And, as Tommy falls asleep, he prays that when he awakes, so will Merton.  
  
Please...  
  
~End~  
  
  



	3. Call for Help

Lori walked into the room.   
  
Tommy was lying in the bed beside Merton, softly snoring. His face was smooth now but Lori   
knew from the drying tear tracks on his face that he had been crying.   
  
She walked over to Merton's bed and sat down in the chair beside it. Gently, she picked up his   
hand and rubbed it as she spoke.  
  
"Hey Merton. The doctors are talking to your family right now. Guess what? Your parents want   
to leave you on the respirator and see if you wake up. They had a hard time talking the   
doctors into it cause they think that there's no chance that you'll wake up.  
  
But we know that it's not true. You'll be up soon. And then we'll go out and kick some demon   
butt. How about this, if you wake up, I'll get you a new magic book. One with all those spells   
that let you set things on fire and... well... do cool stuff like that."  
  
Lori touched Merton's face, feeling the bruises still on it. "Ok, so you're playing hard ball.   
If you wake up, I'll kiss you again. In the school. Right in front of your sister. Or maybe in   
front of the cheerleaders. You can choose the place if you want."   
  
She sighed sadly and removed her hand from Merton's face. Looking around first, she leaned   
over Merton and pressed a kiss to his forehead. His skin was smooth under her touch but it   
felt wrong. Lori drew back, forcing herself not to wipe the rubbery feel of his skin off of   
hers.   
  
Behind her, Tommy's snores stopped. She turned towards him and found him sitting up, rubbing   
the sleep out of his eyes. He was slightly wolfed out, likely from stress rather than actually   
anger.  
  
"Tommy," She said quietly, "Your game face is on."  
  
He reached up and touched his fur-lined face. A few deep breaths later, it mostly faded away.   
  
"Any change?" He asked though a yawn.  
  
"Nothing." She paused, "They aren't going to pull the plug."  
  
Tommy nodded, relief clear on his face. If the Dingle family had decided to pull it... Lori   
doesn't want to think too deeply on that subject.   
  
A knock on the door startles Lori out of her thoughts. She turns around to see Becky entering   
the room. Becky doesn't look like she's slept in days. Lori knows the feeling.  
  
"Hi," Lori's a bit uncomfortable. Merton never seemed to get along with his sister that well   
and Lori has never really spoken to her. "How are you doing?"  
  
Becky shrugs. "I've been better."   
  
They're quiet now, all three of them. The room is filled with the hiss of a respirator, the   
beep of a heart monitor. Not one of them wants to be here in this room. But someone they all   
love, even if their love comes in different ways, brings them here.  
  
Becky rubs the side of her arm and looks at Merton's pale face. She's almost as pale as he is.   
Maybe even paler.   
  
The silence hangs heavy, like a weight pressing upon their chests. Lori opens her mouth to   
speak, to break it when...  
  
BEEP  
  
Lori's heart stopped, as did Merton's. It started again with a surprised and painful thud as   
two nurses ran into the room.   
  
Merton's did not.  
  
"Call the doctor!" One of the nurses said to the other. As the other nurse ran out of the   
room, Lori began to speak.   
  
"He'll be alright won't he?" Her voice was shill and she almost didn't recognize it as her   
own, "The doctors will come and fix everything. It'll be ok and he'll start breathing again."  
  
Becky started to scream and Lori walked to her, grasped Becky's forearms. "Don't worry! He'll   
be ok! They'll fix him!"  
  
But Becky won't stop screaming and now the nurse runs in with two more men behind her. The two   
men grab the sides of Merton's bed and they pull him out of the room. The respirator goes   
flying, and it hits the ground. The one nurse follows the men out. The other nurse turns to   
leave, but Tommy's got his hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Help him." He croaks out before he lets go of the nurse. She runs out of the room like the   
devil's on her heels. Becky's still screaming, not even stopping to breath and Lori finds   
herself mumbling over and over the same words. Even as Tommy wraps his arms around her and   
Becky, she still whispers.  
  
"He'll be ok. He'll be ok. He'll be ok. He'll be ok. He'll be ok. He'll be ok. He'll be ok.   
He'll be ok. He'll be ok..."  



	4. Ashes to Ashes

Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.  
  
This is my life, my motto.  
  
I look at the body of the young boy in front of me. He'd be quite good looking if he weren't   
dead. The family didn't want to be here but two of his friends did. Nice kids but I really   
don't think that they should see this. I'll have to find some way to get rid of them while I   
embalm the body. I doesn't matter how tough you think you are or how tough you are but seeing   
someone embalm a body is different when it's being done to someone you know.  
  
Jeffery, thank God for him, offers to take them on a tour of the home. The girl looks ready to   
leave but the boy looks like he wants to stay. He seems... wrong. I mean, I've seen all sorts of   
people suffering in their grief and everyone has a different reaction but this kid strikes me   
as... well... just wrong. Like he's not human. Just my imagination I think.  
  
They're gone and now I can get to business. I turn on radio and tune it until I find a station I   
like. 'Beautiful Day Blues' is playing. One of my favourites so I leave the radio where it is.   
  
Time to get to work.  
  
The face has got a few bruises but luckily it's mostly intact. Some blush will easily fix up   
this kids face. I look at the picture once again. I don't understand these Goth kids. When they   
die, their parents want them to look natural but it's hard to make a person look natural when   
they have zero pigment in their skin. I decide to just cover the bruises but leave him looking   
pale white. Kid must have spent a lot of time avoiding the sun. My skin's almost as pale as him   
but not by choice.   
  
I lift his eyelids. Grey-blue stares back at me. I pick up my needle already filled with the   
hardening solution and put some into each eye to help them keep their shape. Next go on the   
cups. They look like contact lens with those little spikes that they put on cheap plastic   
admission buttons. These keep the eyelids from falling back when the body is moved.   
  
His hair is intact but it needs to be cleaned. I decide to drain the blood first, just in case   
I get any on it. I hook up the machine, making sure to insert the tube into his artery. Veins   
just collapse and then you're left with a real mess. I flick the machine on and watch the red   
blood that was his life source flow into a plastic container. In the end, we're not that much;   
a few quarts of blood, some skin and bones and a bit of flab.   
  
That's about it.   
  
As it hums and pulls out the blood, I get to work on the rest of him. Until now, I've had most   
of the kid covered with a sheet. They may be dead but they were someone's child at one point,   
someone's love or someone's friend. I always remember that most of all. I pull the sheet back to   
check out the injuries.  
  
One of his legs is broken but I don't have to worry much about it. Open casket isn't what it   
used to be, more like half-open. Now, if you don't want to, you don't have to cloth the bottom   
half of the body. But we do anyway. Just cause. I pull the sheet back up to his mid-stomach. His   
chest is covered with bruises but it's nothing to be worried about. The shirt and pants that the   
parents sent me will easily cover both the leg and they bruises up. But his hair is another   
problem.  
  
I turn off the machine. It's done inserting the embalming fluid and has pulled out the rest of   
the blood. I set the container on the counter for later disposal. Now it's time to fix this   
kid's hair. I shampoo it while trying to figure out how I'm going to make the spikes in his   
hair just right. The picture will help some but I've never had to do spiking. Well, never let it   
be said that I'm not up for a challenge.  
  
I pick up the hair gel that the family supplied and start work. This of course is when the guy   
and the girl end up coming in with Jeffery (damn that idiot) running in after them.  
  
"Um... stop..." Jeff's out of breath and panting. "You can't..."  
  
"Yes we can." The boy says. He reaches over and hold's the girl's hand.   
  
I wipe my gelled hands on a rag nearby and walk over to them. I hold out my hand, not sure if   
they'll take it. Some people have real problems with shaking the hand of someone who has touched   
dead people. These two have no problems. I can respect that. "My name's Julie."  
  
"I'm Tommy." He motions to the girl, "This is Lori."  
  
"Nice to meet you both." I walk back over to the body and pull the sheet over it. "I'm afraid   
that Jeff is right. You do have to leave."   
  
A hand grips my forearm. I find it hard not to shiver with fear. "Please let go of me." I say in   
my most civil, polite voice. God, I hope that he can't hear the shakiness in it.  
  
"Please," He croaks out as if he throat is parched, "Please. Don't make us go." I look at him,   
seeing the pain in his eyes. For a moment, there's a flicker of something... wrong. My heart   
beat speeds up but I still know that no matter who his is, what   
  
(it)  
  
he is, I can't deny him his request.   
  
"Fine." I turn to Jeff as Tommy lets go of my arm. "Jeff, leave them here with me."  
  
"But..."  
  
"But nothing," I cut him off. "Leave. Now."  
  
Jeff scurries out and I am left with these two, one who are still in shock, the other who   
appears to have gone a little crazy. Not the smartest move that I've ever made but not the   
stupidest move either. I walk back towards the kid, Tommy and Lori trailing behind me like two   
lost children. Gently, I pull the sheet back from his head, letting it rest around his next.   
Lori gasps and Tommy... well, he grows.  
  
"I'm sorry if that shocked you," I say, picking up the tube of hair gel and spreading it onto my   
hands, "But I'm not quite done yet." I get to work on his hair, trying to re-create the spikes   
from his picture.   
  
There's a moment of silence and it's as if I'm alone again. That's when she speaks.  
  
"You're doing it wrong." Her tone is sharp, slightly bitter but I know that it's just her way of   
blowing off steam.  
  
"Then show me how." I don't say these words as a joke or to be cruel. I say them with all the   
honesty I can muster. Lori is nervous, shaking like a leaf, and yet she finds the strength to   
step towards me. After wiping my hands with the rag, I hand her the tube of hair gel. She takes   
it and begins spiking his hair.   
  
I walk over to Tommy who is standing by the counter. He doesn't even look at me, just stares at   
the container of blood. Realizing my mistake, I go to pick it up so I can get rid of it. Quicker   
than my eyes can track, his arm shoots out, grabbing mine.   
  
"Is it his?" He asks.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"There's so little," His voice is almost a whisper, "I thought that there would be more."  
  
"There never is." He looks at me. "More I mean. Always seems like there should be more but..." I   
shrug. How do you explain something you don't understand yourself.  
  
His gaze is steady and unwavering. The stare of someone who has snapped. I slowly back away and   
head back to Lori. She's finished the spiking and I have to admit that it looks better than   
what I could have done. She seems better... I think being able to touch him, let her know that   
what happened is real, has made her feel more at ease.   
  
"Hey," I hand her the rag, "Nice work."  
  
"Thanks." She wipes her hand and pauses. "Does... never mind."  
  
"Never mind what?" I raise an eyebrow, "Don't feel embarrassed. If you have a question, just ask   
me."  
  
"Does it get any better," She looks at me, pain in her eyes, "Do you ever stop feeling the   
pain."  
  
This stops me. Do I lie to her, tell her that it goes away? Or do I tell her the truth. I turn   
back.  
  
"It never stops. It fades as time goes by." I know this isn't what she want to hear... but it's   
the truth. "You'll always feel a little pain. But it's a good thing."  
  
She nods. I wonder if she does understand what I'm saying.   
  
As for Tommy. He's still staring at the kid's blood. It's time for me to dress the kid and now   
matter how close they were to him, I can't do that with them in the room.  
  
"You guys have to leave now," It breaks my heart to do this but... "It's against the rules to   
have let you in here at all but what I've got to do now I've got to do alone." I walk up to   
Tommy and set my hand on his shoulder, "He's in good hands. I won't let anymore harm come to   
him."  
  
Tommy turns slowly and looks at me. I feel a chill run up and down my spine. But I hold my   
ground.   
  
"Can I have..." He trails off.  
  
"Have what?"  
  
Tommy's eyes change and my heart speeds up. "His blood."  
  
Oh god! I swallow and find myself speaking, "Um... yeah... I mean I don't use it or anything.   
Here let me get you a container for it." Before I can reconsider what I'm doing, I grab the   
first empty container from the cupboard and pour the blood into it. I hand the cottage cheese   
container to Tommy. He sniffs it and then, with one final look at the kid, he walks out the   
doors.   
  
Lori walks over to me. "He's..." She pauses and thinks, "He blames himself for what happened."  
  
I shake my head. "It wouldn't have made any difference. The kid was dying anyway."  
  
"Dying?" I hear the shock in her voice. Turing towards Lori, I can see the shock in her eyes.  
  
"Yeah," I nod. "He had cancer. I'm surprised no one found it before. Kid was pretty far along."  
  
I look at the pale body lying on the steel table. This kid didn't have a chance at life.   
  
But it doesn't matter in the end. We all end up the same.  
  
Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.  
  



End file.
